The Shining
by Bachiko Kobayashi
Summary: After falling victim to the World Peace Act at the last World Meeting, Germany takes up a job caring for a hotel in the Austrian Alps in a desperate attempt to survive. Italy and Japan tag along, and the three decided that this much-needed vacation is a great way to get back on their feet...or so they think. Based on "The Shining" by Stephen King.
1. Chapter 1

Germany clenched his gloved hands at his side. A flimsy thread was all that remained of his eroded patience. He knew he needed the job; he lived with two other men and a recent world peace act was driving generals out of business. However, the pressing inquiries covering the past fifty years had been wearing him down for the past hour.

Mr. Roderich Edelstein peeked at the file again. He was a rather peculiar man. He stood at 175 cm, his Mariatzel curl that he always styled adding possibly another two centimeters to his stature. His eyes were the violet that fills the sky in diminishing presence of sunlight. However, they hardly ever held the accompanying warmth. Half-rimmed spectacles hid them when he was not busy glaring at his supposedly many inferiors. A mole, seeming so out-of-place on his face, protruded stubbornly beneath the lower left corner of his mouth. Other than those features, he appeared as any other employer behind a cherry desk and clad in a deep purple suit.

He raised an inquisitive look to the German, a man appearing barely into his thirties with strong Aryan features such as golden hair and piercing blue eyes.

"I see you still live with Italy and Japan," said the Austrian. It was not a question, but Germany still answered.

"_Ja_."

Violet eyes narrowed. "Still? Even after Italy's…for lack of a better term, personal crisis?"

"He needed support," Ludwig answered simply. He suppressed the urge to run a hand through his slicked-back hair as he did on occasions when he was under extreme stress. "I wasn't about to abandon him after all we've been through. Besides, in a way, it was just another war."

"Indeed." Austria returned to the document. Silence fell over the room like a blanket, muffling even the rustle of papers in the file. It quickly became stifling.

"So…" Germany began. "Why did I need to write up a résumé anyways? You know everything there is to know about me."

"Yes, but I know nothing about what's been going on in the Axis recently. I've missed the past fifty years with you. If you've been acting like an idiot in that time, I'll certainly need to know about it." Another period of silence followed, this one accompanied with negative thoughts and a heated glare aimed at Roderich from cerulean eyes.

Finally, the beige folder disappeared into a drawer. "Everything seems to be in order," the Austrian muttered. "All I saw that concerned me was the outbreak. But since that seems to be dwindling…" He let his sentence trail off as he picked up rolls of paper sitting behind the desk and stood up.

"Now, since you've been able to hold out with Italy, I expect this to be a cake-walk with you. You realize how long you'll be up here, yes?"

"_Ja_. I'd like to think of it as a vacation."

"I would too, if your war buddies weren't tagging along."

"You know they don't leave my sight."

"Which is why I don't call it a vacation." Ignoring the vein that began to throb in Germany's forehead, Austria continued. "I have the floor plans here to show you." He unrolled the first plan, the lobby. "Over here is the front desk. The offices are behind it. Then the lobby stretches for about thirty meters on either side of the desk. Through the left door is the dining room; beyond that is the kitchen. Across the lobby is the ballroom. Rarely used nowadays, of course, but keep it maintained at the very least. The batwings in here lead to the Beethoven International Lounge." At this, he gave Germany a sharp look. "He'll have no problems there, will he?"

"_Nein_, I don't believe so."

"Making sure." Austria snatched the plan and set it aside. "The first floor," he proclaimed in a scholarly voice, "has thirty rooms. Fifteen are doubles and fifteen are singles. There are two linen closets on this floor. One is in the extreme west wing; one is in the extreme east wing. There's a storeroom in the center. With me so far?"

Ludwig nodded, and away went the first floor.

"There are fifteen rooms on this floor, all suites. Five in the east, five in the middle, and five in the west. Again, there are two linen closets and a storeroom." That plan disappeared.

"The attic. Mainly just filled with garbage. I meant to clean it out earlier this year, but I never got around to it. Set up some rattraps and poison there. And keep it locked. We don't want anyone getting hurt."

The Austrian whisked away the plan and returned to his seat.

"Wait, what about the basement?" Germany inquired. "That should be the most important. Where the magic happens, shall we say?"

"Our maintenance man will show you that," Roderich replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. "That will come next, don't worry. I have one more question for you."

"Okay."

"Now, last year didn't go very well. A grave mistake on my part, I will admit, but it was still very upsetting. I wish to rest assured that it will not happen again. So I want to know if you have enough to stay occupied."

Germany blinked in surprise. That is not what he expected at all. "Sir?"

"Please answer."

"Well, Italy has a painting to finish, and a number of others he can start afterwards. He's been planning to give me lessons, in fact. Japan is currently repairing his computer. He can keep to that task, and even when he finishes, he can use it to keep busy. In addition, we all like to read and listen to music. I believe we'll be plenty distracted during the winter."

"Good." A look that almost seemed to be relief bloomed on the Austrian's features.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, last year we had a bit of an incident. Nasty business. I don't want you guys to end up like that."

"Like what? Please, just tell me."

Austria cleared his throat. "Last year I hired a British man. Short-tempered, not exactly in the greatest mood when drunk, either…"

"Arthur Kirkland?"

"Yes, him. He brought Francis and Alfred with him. I am afraid that one of them developed a severe case of cabin fever. You're familiar with the term?"

"If memory serves, it's the slang words for a reaction due to being closed into a confined area with individuals for extended periods of time. The claustrophobia turns into paranoia, and that evolves into irrational hatred. The person, or people, becomes edgy. Physical abuse and even murder have occurred over small matters such as fighting for a television channel or who has to clean a room."

"Exactly. Anyways, it appeared that Francis had attacked and brutally killed them. Law enforcement found him that spring drenched in their blood. According to him, England had attacked the three of them in late March with a knife from the kitchens. America failed to escape; his death was first. Supposedly he turned on France, but when he evaded capture, Kirkland slit his own throat."

"Oh _mein Gott…_"

"Mr. Bonnefoy was taken to court and found guilty of the crime, later to be labeled as mentally unsound and sent to an institution."

"Has he improved any?"

"_Nein_, he hasn't." Germany shook his head, eyes wide in shock. France, Britain, and America? But they had been at the final World Meeting in September. They were all their usual perverted, annoying, and cranky selves. None of them seemed to be the type to suffer cabin fever.

Then again, it was usually who you least expected that snapped.

"Well, did they check the blade?" the Aryan asked suddenly. "That's the key piece of evidence in the case."

Austria shrugged. "No one could find it. We replaced it, bought another one later, but we have yet to come across it."

"Why haven't I heard about this before?"

"Because I kept it out of the papers. And trust me when I say that that was no walk in the park." The brunette pushed his glasses up higher onto his nose. "That's why I asked. The Chopin Resort is just beginning to get its reputation back, and I do not want it messed up again. I'm going to have to pay the newspapers, get some serious cleaning done... Oh, and there's also the well-being of you three."

The vein throbbed again. _Why was that not your FIRST concern?_ the blonde mentally shouted.

"At any rate, I probably shouldn't keep you from our maintenance man any longer." Austria rose to his feet, offering a hand to shake. "It was nice seeing you again, Germany."

"Ja, you too…" Ludwig took the hand firmly (perhaps more than he intended), making direct eye contact.

"So after this, I'll see you…"

"Three o'clock, the twentieth of September. Don't be late."

"I won't, I won't. See you then." When the two released their (rather tight) grips, Germany beat a hasty retreat out the door.

**(A/N: Sooooo... Yeah. Intended mood for this was supposed to be tense, awkward, down-to-business. Came up with the story with France, England, and America on the spot. FAIL. But anywho, hope you enjoy, and I've started working on chapter 2, so keep an eye out for it~!)**


	2. Chapter 2

A book closed with a soft _snap_, the only sound in the otherwise quiet home. He placed it gently on the kotatsu and paused to briefly caress its worn leather cover. It was a novel that had been passed down from generation to generation in his family, but its yellowing pages still held firm, within properly delicate hands. He felt rather like the tattered old thing, knowing nothing but moving around constantly throughout his lifetime. Exhaustion and strain caught up to his weary bones after the long voyage he had made with his comrades. What they all needed was a long rest.

However, that was not to be taken here, but up in the mountains.

He rose from his pillow, his feet, covered modestly with thin socks, barely whispering over the polished hardwood floors during his trek to the window.

His Italian friend sat on the curb, anxiously awaiting Germany's return. He had propped his elbows up on his knees and rested his chin in his hands. His unwavering amber gaze focused on the street down which their battered old Ferrari would putt-putt until it reached their driveway, giving a sputtering cough before it would sit soundless and unmoving. Nothing broke Feliciano's concentration, not even the leaf that brushed against his boot before skittering along its undeterminable way. His short auburn hair that would darken with the approaching winter barely rustled in the cool breeze, a pert curl jutting out against the forces around it that dared keep it down.

Kiku Honda shook his head. When Italy would not accompany Ludwig, he would be found on the curb outside anticipating his arrival back home, even if the blonde was a mere two blocks away at the grocery store. It was an odd habit that seemed to follow them anywhere they went. Again the thought arrived in his head, as sudden as the wind that caressed the world outside. Who, out of the three of them, suffered the worst emotional damage from their move to the suburbs? He'd been pondering the question for a long time; the plethora of emotions he picked up from the other two was difficult to sort.

Japan had been born with a kind of sixth sense. He could easily detect others' emotions with it. But that was barely scratching the surface of all that he was capable of doing. As far as he had experienced (be they constant or occasional incidents), he could locate lost objects, catch a snippet of a person's train of thought, or even pick up a vague image of the future. His family was the only group that possessed this knowledge; he was actually rather protective of his secret and was scared that he would be criticized about his gift; especially should he mention the entity that appeared when he was deep in concentration. The person had no given name, so he kept to calling him Hayate.

The ebony-haired man sighed as he pulled the heavy wooden door open. He began crossing the yard, a stray browned leaf crackling beneath his foot. He adjusted his yukata as he took a seat next to Feliciano.

"_Kon'nichiwa_, Italy," he greeted softly (with his strong accent it came out as Itary). The Italian's startled jolt to attention was almost unnoticeable, but he turned with a smile, offering a quick wave.

"_Ciao_ Japan!" he replied happily. "_Come stai?_ How are you today?"

"I'm fine, how are you?"

"Fine, ve~. Just waiting." Both eyes returned to the road. The only noises that permeated the air for a long moment were those of the city ambience in the distance. Well, now was as good a time as any to speak up. So, Kiku cleared his throat.

"Italy…I-I've been meaning to ask you," he started hesitantly.

"_Sí_? What is it?" Feli's gaze turned questioning as he faced his friend.

"Well, I was wondering…um… How did you feel about coming to Berlin from Tokyo?" Vague surprise came across the other's face. It quickly morphed into a look of consideration, and then the Italian hugged his knees to his chest.

"I didn't mind it," he lied, offering a smile that almost seemed forced, which was very unusual for him.

Japan raised a brow unconvinced. "You're a very bad liar, we both know that. Now, please, be honest. How did you feel about it?"

"I-I don't know…" he muttered sheepishly, honey-colored hues wandering to the ground. He almost appeared as a scolded child. "I feel a lot of things, I guess. Sad, angry, confused, scared…"

"About what?"

"About everything that's happened…"

"Explain, please?"

"Well…" Feliciano shrugged. "I-I guess… I'm sad because I miss everyone and everything we left. I'm mad at myself for getting us into this whole mess to start with. I-I'm confused about how it all happened the way it did and where we're going. And…"

"And?"

"And…A-and I'm scared because you guys seemed so upset when we had to go, and s-since it was my fault, I'm scared you'll hate me because I ruined it for you, too." Ending the sentence in a rush, he buried his face in his hands, sniffing sharply as if doing so would retain the tears that threatened to leak down his cheeks.

Well, Japan had his answer.

"Italy…" He placed his hand on the brunette's shoulder in a comforting manner. "Don't beat yourself up about what happened. It wasn't your fault, not in the least. It happened _to_ you, not _because_ of you." Feli sat up, his watery golden gaze tinted with slight uncertainty.

"R-really…?" he asked in a skeptic tone.

"_Hai_, it happened to you just like it happened to Ludwig and me."

"…D-do you really believe that?"

"_Hai_, I do." He offered a small, reassuring smile. "We're all upset about the move, and we wish it didn't have to happen. But it did. You know, I think it might even be for the better."

"Wh…really?" The Italian cocked a brow. "How so?"

"Well…You didn't seem very happy while you were there, and Germany clearly had trouble getting along with people."

"But what about you?"

"It just didn't seem right. Maybe because you two didn't like it…" His smile grew kinder and wider.

"But Tokyo's your capital, _sí_?" Feli tilted his head, only looking more confused at his friend's words.

"It's not comfortable to me if it isn't for you two. At any rate, we'll all start fresh when we get up to the mountains. You'll paint, I'll get some animation done, and Germany will care for the hotel."

Italy nodded and seemed to warm up to the idea. A small smile began to tug at the corner of his lips. "Yeah! And we can pick up our lives from there, and we'll do a lot better, right?"

"_Hai, _exactly."

"And we'll live happily ever after?"

"Of course." With a nod, the Japanese man patted Feliciano's shoulder blade. He found himself pulled into a tight embrace soon after doing so, as if he activated a secret switch on the other's back like a wind-up toy.

"_Grazie_, Japan…" The gust around them made his whisper barely audible.

"Um…N-no problem, Italy, just…" Blood flooded Kiku's cheeks as he placed his hands on the brunette's shoulders and gently pushed him away. "…personal bubble, remember?"

"Oh, right! _Sí_, I forgot!" With a giggle, his ocher eyes reverted to the street that seemed to extend into the horizon. It didn't take long for them to return to the Japanese man. "Oh! Japan Japan Japan! Guess what, guess what!"

"_Nani_?"

"The last time I did the Bad Thing was seventy years ago today!" He perked up considerably at the news and grinned. "Aren't you proud of me?"

"_H-hai_, that's quite an achievement. We should celebrate!"

"Can we have pasta for dinner?"

"…we _always_ have pasta for dinner, don't we?"

"Well…_sí_, but I mean that really good pasta that you make! You know, you usually cook it as soup and everything, and you put those veggies in it…"

"Ramen?"

"Yeah, that stuff!" He gave an eager, vigorous nod.

"Sure, if you want it."

"_Grazie_!" A small chuckle escaped the Italian's lips despite the hand held up in a feeble attempt to hold it in. Suddenly he stopped. A look of contemplation graced his features, and he tapped his chin in a comical way. "Wait, idea coming up… Instead of just ramen, how about all three of us cook something? It'll be a lot of fun!"

"That's a great idea, Italy," Japan agreed with a nod.

"Yay, _grazie_!" Feliciano reached to hug the ebony-haired man again, but he quickly remembered the events from earlier, so he retracted his arms. "Whoops, _dispiace_…" Instead he patted Kiku's shoulder and returned to his vigil.

"It's fine, Italy." The Japanese man climbed to his feet, his chestnut eyes scanning the street once more before straightening the wrinkles from his yukata. "I think I'm going to start lunch now."

"Really? Was that all you needed?"

"_Hai _it was. _Arigato_."

"Oh, alright!" Feli tilted his head backwards to smile up at Japan. "_Prego_, Kiku~!" Returning the smile as Italy returned to watching the street, he began heading back inside. A thought tugged at the back of the Japanese man's mind as he pulled open the door once again.

_I wonder what Germany-san is doing right now._

**(Kay, I rewrote chapter 2 and went into more detail. :3 Hopefully this works out better~!)**

5


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